


Unholy Interference

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Demon Powers, Demonic Possession, Exorcisms, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Papa II is called upon to handle something that the church hasn't seen for decades -- a demonic possession.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Unholy Interference

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a topic that I see tackled often, so I wanted to give it a try. I got inspired after watching a documentary about an exorcism that took place in Italy siudhfisuhdf 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I had a LOT of fun writing this one.

Papa Emeritus the Second felt nervous for the second time in his life.    
  
At least, that’s what he would  _ admit _ to. Everyone knew he was nervous about his first music video; he couldn’t hide that. This, however, was on a completely different level. Trying to admit nervousness to anyone except his brothers would make people scared. He had to be a bastion of order -- of control -- tonight.   
  
A possession hadn’t happened since the height of his father’s reign. Yet, a Brother of Sin waited for him now, tied down to a plain stone slab in the basement. According to Omega and several other witnesses, the Brother had been normal for most of the day. They weren’t sure what made him act unorderly; it just all seemed to start at random. There was manic laughter, gloating, speaking in tongues, hissing ...    
  
It took a few ghouls to hold down the Brother of Sin. He thrashed, he screamed, shouted protests in Latin. They didn’t let go, though. Instead, they hauled him away to the surprise of many Siblings. They had all watched in horror as their friend -- their fellow Sibling -- was pulled away, snapping and yowling in anger. Omega admitted that even he was uneased by the whole incident.   
  
Papa’s eyes narrowed as he continued to apply his face paint. He couldn’t imagine who would dare violate one of the members of his flock, and he was certain that they didn’t want him to know either. What awaited them would be nothing short of hellish.   
  
He paused for just a moment, enough to calm the tremors of rage. He had to remain calm, cool, and collected. Any sense of anger might feed the demon, depending on the type it was. Omega hadn’t been able to tell; he had been too focused on restraining the Brother of Sin to probe. It could be a regular run of the mill demon, or it could be one with more abilities -- a kind that made the Siblings shake at night.   
  
Not even the most powerful demon would get away with this. He wouldn’t let them.   
  
Once he was satisfied with his face paint, Papa II put on his mitre, checked his chasuble, grabbed his ferula, and began his long walk down to the basement.    
  
Various Siblings of Sin whispered among themselves, trembling and shaking with fear. They held each other. They attempted to reassure each other. Papa II, however, could only see one look in their eyes: uncertainty. The church had been a safe space for so many, and now they questioned it. The worst part is, he couldn’t even blame them -- not right now.   
  
Papa’s grip on his ferula tightened. He didn’t dare look them in the eye for more than a second. If he did, he’d waver. Comfort could come later. As much as it pained him to ignore the Siblings, he had to; he had a job to focus on.    
  
Two ghouls guarded the door to the basement -- not unusual on its own. However, the fact that it was two quintessence ghouls was, at least to bystanders. The sheer force of their bulk was needed. If the possessor tried to escape, they would have to be the ones to hold the Brother back. They were the last line of defense.    
  
The fact that they weren’t standing at attention made Papa scowl. One silent look from Papa was enough to make the ghouls snap back into focus. He stood there, silent and proud, grasping the ferula. After one small gesture, they rushed to open the door for him, bowing awkwardly as they held the doorknobs. He huffed and then began his descent.    
  
The torches on the walls had already been lit for him. Good. It was easier to walk down the winding stone staircase that way. It was easy to notice the little things, too.    
  
There was definitely something amiss; the demon had scratched at the walls, leaving marks. Specks of blood rest near the torches, flickering in the light. One of the torches further down had been knocked off of its holder. The fire had been stamped out, and ashes of the flames were scattered about the last few stairs. The unlit torch lay on one of the stairs, untouched. Papa simply stepped over it.    
  
It was about now that he could hear the shouts from the Brother of Sin. He absolutely sounded like a man possessed. Those growls couldn’t come from a human mouth, nor could the Old Latin. It was enough to make Papa pause.  _ ‘This is really happening.’  _   
  
He steeled himself, then walked into the open chamber.   
  
What he saw made his blood run cold.    
  
The setting itself was familiar to him. Only slivers of moonlight could be seen from the outside; the window was narrow, more to circulate air than to provide a view of the world outside. Torches lined the walls, illuminating the circular room properly. There wasn’t much to this room, and that hadn’t changed.    
  
What was different was the person that was on the stone slab now.   
  
Papa recognized this member of his flock. His name was Arturo and he was a relatively new member of the church. He was always annoyingly chipper, the one who dared to tell Papa good morning when he looked grouchy. Arturo always lent a helping hand to the other Siblings, making sure that everything got done as needed.   
  
Now, he was tied down to the altar with the strongest rope that the ghouls could find. Arturo thrashed and writhed, howling at the top of his lungs. His short brown hair was an absolute mess. Scratch marks were on his neck and face. While they no longer bled, the dried crimson blood still covered his tanned skin in those areas.    
  
The demon inside Arturo yowled again, attempting once more to escape the confines of the room. The ghouls were able to hold him down, but only just barely.    
  
These ghouls were out of their element. These were newly summoned servants -- they hadn’t been prepared for something like this. It showed in the way that they fumbled with the rope, how they jumped when the demon roared.  _ ‘I will be fixing this for future summons,’ _ he thought to himself.  _ ‘I can’t let this happen again.’ _   
  
Papa frowned in silent, obvious anger. The ghouls shrank back from him in fear.   
  
“I could be cruel,” he said to the demon. “I could invoke the name of the Bringer of Light to illuminate your true identity. But I hope we don’t have to resort to such drastic measures.”    
  
Papa moved forward, knees trembling beneath the chasuble.    
  
“So, tell me plain: Who are you?”    
  
The demon inside Arturo didn’t respond with words at first. He only snarled, eyes unfocused. It jerked at its bonds, nearly sending the ghouls off of their feet. They hadn’t expected such a feat of strength from a human -- and truth be told, neither did Papa.    
  
“Hold him down! Don’t let down your guard!”    
  
The ghouls did so. Papa noticed how light gray their knuckles looked and the determination in their eyes under the masks. He couldn’t see the rest of their expressions under the black masks, but he could hazard a few guesses.    
  
“I ask again, you miserable wretch:  _ who are you? _ ”    
  
“Io sono Satana!  _ Io sono Satana! _ ” the demon spat in a mockery of Arturo’s voice.   
  
Fury shot through every fiber of Papa’s being. He growled himself, rushing forward and closing his hand around Arturo’s neck. Before he realized he had done this, he had begun to dig his gloved fingers into his flesh. Papa didn’t even blink, but he did ease his grip.    
  
“The Olde One would not stoop so low as to possess a member of this church!” Papa spat. Spittle landed on Arturo’s face. “Do not dare sully His name with your lies! Free will is everything to us, and  _ you _ are robbing Arturo of it!”    
  
The demon laughed, only fueling Papa’s anger. Papa snarled, but let go. As much as he wanted to curse this  _ thing _ out, it wouldn’t do Arturo any good.    
  
Instead, he slammed the edge of his ferula on the floor. The sound resonated through the room, startling the ghouls. “You are not Satan. You are not any demon of importance. Those we worship do not waste their time with such matters! So I ask one more time before I invoke the Brighter of Light.  _ Who are you? _ ”   
  
The demon didn’t acquiesce to his request. Instead, he spouted more ridiculous, implausible names: Baphomet. Asmodeus. Belial. Beelzebub. The list of names was endless. All of them were fictitious.    
  
“We are legion!” the voice of Arturo shouted. It faded into a snarl, and he snapped his teeth. “We are an army!”    
  
“Funny,” Papa replied dryly. “You’re leaving me with no choice.”    
  
Another roar.    
  
“In the name of the Light Bringer, Lucifer, tell me who you are. Let His light shine upon you, revealing your true nature.  _ Tell me who you are! _ ”    
  
Arturo arched his back, straining against the rope. He continued to snap and snarl, only held down by the firm hands of the ghouls.    
  
_ “Ganirid!” _ the demon shouted.  _ “Ganirid, Ganirid!”  _   
  
Papa scoffed openly. It was just as he thought; this demon was a nobody. What, did he want to prove himself? Try to make himself seem more intimidating than he really was? He nodded to one ghoul, who then tightened the bond around Arturo’s wrists.    
  
“Well then, Ganirid,” Papa snarled, “You are not welcome. You are to leave this man’s body now and not return.”   
  
The laughter he got in response made Papa’s blood boil. He slammed the ferula on the ground once more, cutting the laughter short.    
  
“Arturo is a valued member of this church, a servant of Satan and His demons. Begone!”    
  
“He’s -- that’s not working!” the ember ghoul cried out. “It’s just making him angrier!”    
  
“Do not interfere!”   
  
Papa, however, had to admit that the damned ghoul was right. Arturo was still struggling, and just seemed angry rather than subdued whatsoever. If anything, the harsh words had only empowered him.    
  
He clearly didn’t have the weight to banish this demon by word alone; Satan wouldn’t want to trouble himself with something this trifling. There would have to be something else -- something that could get the damned thing out of the church. Then, the Sisters could ward the building and seal it properly so it couldn’t get back in.    
  
...  _ Ah. _   
  
“Keep him subdued,” Papa said. He moved to stand in front of the slab, looking down upon Arturo’s thrashing body.    
  
This was going to hurt.    
  
Papa shut his eyes and began to focus. The left side of his face always hurt when he tried to use his abilities; this was no exception. It was on par with a migraine. His brothers could handle the pain much better than he could -- always a sore spot. This, however, was worth it. The throbbing made him cringe, but he had to hold out.    
  
It was all about visualizing. If Papa excelled in one thing, it was utilizing his mind’s eye. He could clearly picture Arturo in front of him, thrashing on the slab. He forced himself to imagine a massive hand protruding from his eye -- ethereal, transparent, surrounded by a glowing black aura. The hand he imagined reached out to Arturo, grasping his body. To be more precise, he was grabbing what was  _ inside _ Arturo’s body.    
  
It was so easy to picture. Papa wasn’t sure what the demon inside looked like, but he could imagine some sort of proxy easily enough. He imagined that Ganirid was a small, simple imp. Something pathetic, something small. In his mind’s eye, he looked like a plucky little thing with too-small wings and small claws and teeth.    
  
“Agh!”    
  
Ganirid was fighting -- that much was clear. It was taking a lot of effort to keep the ‘hand’ around him. The sheer force of the demon’s resistance nearly sent Papa flying. Papa grit his teeth as he pushed back mentally, forcing the ‘hand’ to close around the imp’s body. It flailed in his spiritual grasp, screeching and howling in what he imagined as a pathetic little shriek.    
  
In a final show of power, he created a grand scenario that represented what he was doing: pulling the demon out of Arturo’s body and hurling it away. It was quite satisfying to throw the damned thing out of the ‘wall’ of the room. Papa even gave himself the luxury of imagining Ganirid hitting the ground in pain.    
  
That was all that he could manage, though. Papa cursed himself as he staggered, falling backwards on the stone flooring.    
  
He felt a ghoul catch him before his world went black. 

* * *

For a moment, when he woke up, Papa II thought he had a hangover.   
  
There were bright lights in whatever room he was in. It clearly wasn’t his -- the bed was too uncomfortable and too small. He struggled to open his eyes, however. The left side of his face hurt so damn badly; it was like that he got smacked with a massive hammer.    
  
Papa groaned as he attempted to sit up. The exertion was too much. He promptly flopped back onto the inferior bed he was laying on, panting with exhaustion. Why in the seven hells --   
  
“You’re awake,” came Omega’s voice.    
  
Papa’s eyes snapped open. He managed to tilt his head to the side to see Omega at his bedside. The lights were so bright; all Papa could make out was the curtain behind him, and a few other beds.    
  
“Am I in the medical wing?” Even talking seemed to wear him out. Why ...? “What --”   
  
“Yes. But be quiet,” Omega said. “You still need to rest.” He took the time to pull the blanket up on Papa, much to Papa’s irritation. He wasn’t a damned child, he didn’t need someone to do that for him.   
  
“Let me ask what happened. Is Arturo --”   
  
Omega cut him off again. If Papa had more energy, he’d slap him for that. As it was, he couldn’t even raise his arm. “He’s fine. He’s resting on the other side of the room. He’s no longer possessed, and he has you to thank for it.”   
  
Papa exhaled sharply. To anyone else, it would sound like a huff. But, unfortunately, Omega knew him well enough to hear it as the sigh of relief that it was.    
  
“After you passed out,” Omega continued, “Sister Imperator arranged for numerous  _ trained _ Sisters of Sin to ward the building. It took most of the night. They have been given relief of their duties for the day as compensation. You have as well.”   
  
_ “Excuse me?”  _   
  
“Look. Secondo.” Oh, Papa was going to  _ strangle _ Omega as soon as he could move. “What you did was absolutely reckless. If I physically could, I would have hit you for doing it. Spiritually removing a demon takes an insane amount of power. The fact that you were able to do it on your own is impressive, but you actually doing it is completely reckless.”   
  
“I saw no other option.”   
  
“You could have asked for help.”   
  
“This was  _ my _ responsibility.”   
  
Even as he doubled down verbally, Papa was regretting his actions. It definitely solved the problem, but the paperwork would still pile on his desk because he had to take today off. Just the  _ thought  _ of having a massive stack of work to come back to the next day made his head throb again. He groaned and shut his eyes again, utterly defeated.    
  
“What I want to do,” Papa began, “is to train ghouls properly for this. I got stuck with a bunch of new summons who barely knew how to handle the situation. That did not help matters. Even if it’s rare, we need to prepare them properly for this kind of situation.”    
  
“Understandable,” Omega replied. “I will bring the message to Sister Imperator. Is there anything else?”   
  
“Bring me a proper meal sometime today. The food given here is heinous.”    
  
Omega chuckled, which only infuriated Papa more. “Unfortunately, your medical needs override that order. The nurses will give you what you need and I can’t interfere with that.”   
  
“I detest you,” Papa grumbled. This made Omega laugh heartily and clap Papa on the shoulder. Papa winced at the touch.    
  
“You wouldn’t have me any other way. You need someone to call you out on your shit and you know it.” Omega rose to his feet and dusted off his shirt. “Now, you need to rest. That is an order from Imperator. I just came to relay that.”   
  
“And do so in the most infuriating manner, along with pissing me off otherwise. As is typical for you.”   
  
“Perhaps I’m guilty of enjoying that a bit too much.”   
  
Omega strode away, tail flicking happily as he did so. Papa tried to turn his head to watch him leave, but found himself unable to do so. He sighed in frustration, but resigned himself to the inevitable: he had exerted too much energy, and he needed to rest.    
  
While his method was imperfect, Papa was just happy that he could finally use his power. It had been a long time coming -- his brothers had told him to not bother, that it wouldn’t be worth the exertion and pain. Now, finally, he could say that he had used it in an appropriate way.    
  
His brothers would scold him, of course. They always did so out of worry. But it would just roll off of his back this time.    
  
Papa smiled sardonically as he slipped back into sleep. 


End file.
